


Doppelganger

by Syrum



Category: Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Doppelganger, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-28
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-09 10:46:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3246812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syrum/pseuds/Syrum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Anders they had known, was gone.  Had never existed.  After the destruction of the chantry in Kirkwall, Sebastian follows through with his promise, amassing an army and chasing after the fleeing mage.  What he finds, though, is an envy demon and a broken man who has never been to Kirkwall, never so much as heard the name Sebastial Vael before.</p>
<p>With the perpetrator of the tragedy of Kirkwall dead, and an innocent mage begging for death at his feet, what is a prince to do?  Turn to the newly established Inquisition, of course.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. On the Trail of Demons

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know I'm supposed to be working on my other two very long fics, but this idea came to me and hng! Can't pass up the chance to write some proper Anders!
> 
> Pairings will evolve with the story, and rating might go up.

The hunt had been ongoing for nigh on a year now; Sebastian and his personal army combing the north, while Fenris and Isabela headed south with a few deserters from the Kirkwall guard. Though divided, their goals were nevertheless the same; find Anders, and bring him to justice for what he had done. The mage had fled after the destruction of the chantry, thanks to Hawke and his too-kind heart. He had allowed the man to leave, despite the destruction he had wrought and the innocent lives he had claimed, and that had been the final straw for Sebastian - the prince had departed immediately, reclaiming his throne and amassing an army that would become the pride of Starkhaven, every man and woman clamouring for the blood of the abomination.

Fenris had remained behind for a while, if only to see that as many abominations were disposed of as possible, taking more than a small amount of pleasure in dispatching the self same mages he had assured Hawke time and again were a danger to them all. It seemed, for the moment, that he had been proved right.

“Highness, we’ve had reports of a mage fitting the abomination’s description in a town a day’s ride north-east from here.” The scout rode up at a trot, dismounting and bowing to his prince as was expected of him, helmet removed and tucked under one arm.

“Good, thank you for your report.” Sebastian responded, barely looking at the man as he scanned the horizon. What he was looking for, no one was certain, but the prince spent much of his time thus, always looking, always searching. “We ride, then. Sunset is still a good few hours away, we can make much of the distance before then.” Squeezing his heels against the flanks of his mare, the horse made a soft snort and began to move forward, the forward scouts moving ahead at a gallop to take their places ahead of the main group.

Several hours passed, and if Sebastian was feeling the wear from his saddle, he did not show it. Their pace had slowed only slightly, and even that was due to the condition of their horses rather than the riders. When they stopped, it was only out of necessity, setting up camp to rest and refuel. As always, the prince took his meal away from the rest of his troops, barely mingling with the men and speaking with few save his General.

“You seem troubled, my lord.” Dwan had sidled up to the brunette, not quiet enough to make him jump, but enough that he earned a raised eyebrow from the chantry-raised prince. “Moreso that usual, anyway.”

“It’s a lot to take in, my friend.” Sebastian sighed and leaned back, arms braced behind himself to remain upright. “After what happened, so many have clamoured for justice, and now it falls to us to carry it out.”

“That’s not what’s bothering you though, is it?” The General sat by his prince, one leg stretched out in front of him, while the other was raised enough to rest one armour-clad arm upon it. Sebastian took the opportunity to glance over the man; older than he by some years, shown by the grey that was starting to poke through his beard and the slight thinness atop his head. He was tall, taller than any man Sebastian had met, and the only person he really and truly trusted with anything any more.

“You know me too well, it seems.” He laughed, turning his attention back to the sunset ahead of them, the sky lined with reds and purples of the most beautiful hues. “He was my friend, once. At least, I thought of him as such. Whether it was mutual, I’m not certain.”

“The betrayal must have hurt.”

“It hurt less than losing Elthina.” Came the quiet response, the pain of losing someone he considered to be dearer to him than his own mother still raw.

“We will find him, my prince.” Dwan placed his hand upon the white and gold Starkhaven armour Sebastian was rarely seen without, the clank of metal on metal breaking the stillness of the evening air. “We will find him, you will have your revenge, I promise you this.”

“Indeed.” Came the firm response, as the pair stood, returning to their tents.

The following morning brought light rain which got progressively worse throughout the day, not enough to slow them down but it did succeed in lowering the general morale of the troops. Riding in rain while wearing full armour was distinctly unpleasant, though not one complained openly, the horses trudging through mud and stone as they pushed forward. They reached the town in question by noon, only to find it deserted, the only signs of life being the wild dogs that had taken residence there.

“This seems strange.” Dwan pressed forward ahead of the prince, on full alert. “The reports stated that this was a normal village, there hasn’t been any word of a desertion, something is not right here.”

“Agreed, we need to be wary.” Sebastian pulled the bow from his back and nocked an arrow, just as a red glow caught his eye to the right, and one of his forward scouts went up in a surge of unnatural fire from the ground below, his screams and those of his mount ripping through the silent town.

“Traps! The ground has been laid with traps! Fall back, men.” Dwan bellowed, even as another trap was triggered, and another, until soon the small army was a panicked mess.

“Enough, be still.” The prince finally bellowed, dismounting from his horse. “Whoever they are, they know we are here, and they have left us a path to follow. Keep behind me and do not step anywhere which I do not.”

It was not easy, they found, for an entire army - no matter how small - to follow in almost single file behind the brunette. He pressed forward with purpose, Dwan not far behind, and a legion of soldiers at his heels, the line almost comical to behold for any onlookers. The path led to what might once have been a quarry, a great rift in the ground devoid of what once might have grown there, and from that point the traps seemed to cease.

“You found me, then.” The voice, so familiar and laced with honey, bellowed from across the great divide. Anders, his hair loose from the tie he normally wore and robes as black as sin itself, all but sneered down at the assembled men. Behind him stood row after row of demons, or abominations, it was difficult to tell the difference though both were certainly present.

“Give yourself up, and I will guarantee a swift death.” Sebastian spat back, arrow already aimed at the mage, fingers trembling ever so slightly as he struggled to keep himself from loosing it there and then.

“I knew one of you would find me eventually, it was inevitable. For what it’s worth, I’m glad it was you, Sebastian.” Chaos reigned, then, the terror of the soldiers palpable as they sliced through demons and abominations alike, and were cut down in turn. Dwan had disappeared from his sight, and Sebastian let loose arrow after arrow, each one deadly, always finding its mark. This was, he knew, what mages were capable of if left unchecked, and yet...

“Sire, watch ou-” The warning was cut off with a gurgle and a crunch, as the soldier in question was crushed into almost nothing, blood spattering across white and gold to mingle with the rest of the filth upon Sebastian’s armour. He was out of arrows, and had drawn the daggers he carried with him, less adept with them but still a deadly foe. Before him stood the mage, face twisted into something like rapture, blue glowing from the cracks about his eyes as something other than Anders stared out.

“Isn’t this glorious?” The creature howled, arms held wide and staff nowhere to be seen. “All this chaos, all this death, it’s wonderful to behold, is it not?”

“Stop this madness, don’t you think you’ve done enough?” Sebastian made to step forward, to place himself close enough to cut the mage down, and found he could not move. Entirely paralysed from the waist down, he realised with horror that in the chaos he had stepped into yet another well-placed trap.

“I have done nowhere near enough.” Anders laughed, face twisting cruelly. “There is so much more I could do, but I fear this face is at its limits.” He sighed, looking slightly remorseful. “I have so enjoyed wearing it for all these years, it has been most useful.”

“You’re not Anders.” The prince gasped quietly, finally realising why the whole situation felt so wrong, so out of place.

“You will make a more than adequate replacement for your ‘Anders’, dear Sebastian.” The man before him seemed to twist then, before lurching forward, only to be cut down by a blade too fast to be seen before he could reach the prince. An unearthly howl ripped from his throat as limbs stretched and distorted, warping into something hideous as it died, gurgling on its own blood.

“Are you unharmed, my prince?” Dwan was at his side in a moment, the spell holding Sebastian’s legs breaking the instant the creature was cut down.

“I am fine, I fear the men are worse off than I, see to them.” A half-hearted arm gesture followed, the prince too wrapped up in trying to see what the thing in front of him was without actually touching it to pay much attention to anything else. The fighting was over, that he knew, which meant there was no immediate danger and he could slake his curiosity for a while.

“There are scarce few left to see to.” The General replied, expression grim and tight as he surveyed the carnage around them. Abominations lay slaughtered alongside their men, some barely distinguishable from the demons who slowly fizzled into dust while others appeared near-human still. Once the demon disguised as Anders had been slew, the remaining demons had all but vanished back to the fade, seemingly held there by his will alone, and the remaining abominations had been cut down easily enough. Sebastian glanced around, then, murmuring a quick prayer for the dead, his remaining soldiers numbering maybe a dozen in total, and he watched as they combed the field for survivors.

“What was that thing?” The prince finally sighed, turning back to the creature that had started to dissolve at his feet, dead eyes staring up at him as it returned to nothingness.

“A demon, I couldn’t tell you what sort though. What did it say to you?” Dwan fixed him with a firm stare, clearly concerned.

“Something about me being a replacement for...something.” Sebastian shook his head. “I’m not sure. We need to find out more about it, it might be the key to finding Anders.”

“So this...thing was pretending to be the abomination? For what purpose?”

“I’m unsure of that either. Knowing what it is might help answer that question as well. Do we know of anyone who might be able to help?” It didn’t make sense, none if this made sense. Why would a demon choose to disguise itself as the most hated man in Thedas? And it had said it had worn the face for years, so how had they not crossed paths before?

“The mages we have in the dungeons back at Starkhaven might know? Though we’re closer to Kirkwall, if you can face going back there.”

“No, I don’t trust our prisoners, and I cannot rely on help from Kirkwall, not where the abomination is concerned. Is there any tell of Wardens in the area?”

“Aye, you think they might be of use?” Dwan scratched at his beard, blood and muck colouring the greying hair there. They turned away as the last of the demon vanished, moving together to help the troops in their search.

“They may have a mage with them, by the name of Bethany. If you can find her, she will help.” Movement to their left, and they found one of Anders’ mages staring up at them, gasping for breath as her lungs slowly filled with blood from an arrow embedded in them, terror clear on her face.

“And you trust this mage?” The General drew his blade, slashing the woman’s throat, a mercy killing by that point.

“As much as I would trust any mage, but...” Here he paused, deliberating for several short moments. “I would consider her a friend, perhaps. I just hope you can find her.”

“Yes, my lord.”


	2. Bethany

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can we just talk, for a moment, about how much I love Bethany?
> 
> She is a thousand times over my favorite DA2 character and oh my word I love her so much! She is so strong, and caring, and entirely wonderful that I could not pass up the opportunity to write her into this!

”You _honestly_ think that I’ll help you after what you’ve _done_?” Beth stood with her arms crossed over her chest, nostrils flared as she glared up at the prince. Three other wardens stood not too far away, seemingly engrossed in their own business, but all present knew they were watching intently. It took something fairly big to anger the usually calm, kind mage, and at that precise point in time she was entirely livid.

“I did what needed to be done, Bethany.” Sebastian tried to reason with the woman, but she was having none of it, not after living through the nightmare that had been Kirkwall and the horrific aftermath all over Thedas.

“No, you did what you _thought_ needed to be done, so tainted are you by your precious Chantry and your Templars.” She was jabbing her finger into his chest before he had even noticed her moving, lip curling in disgust. “You took your religion, our religion, and have done nothing but use it to excuse the _barbaric torture_ of mages in your care.” She stepped towards him, the brunette taking one step backwards as she advanced, and then another. “You have _twisted_ the words of our Maker, of our Lady Andraste, and used them to justify such _atrocities_ that I could never have expected you capable of."

“Beth, please, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” The prince pleaded, hands raised before him as she continued to advance, thankful that his men were far enough away that they would not witness the dressing down he was receiving.

“Do _not_ lie to me, Vael!” The mage spat, her eyes mere slits as she stared him down, expression one of utter fury. “I have seen the state of the mages that were retrieved by the wardens from your very dungeons. I have _seen_ the _scars_ they bear, from _months_ of torture.” Her voice lowered dangerously, and she was standing close enough that at a distance their reunion might have been mistaken for something more intimate. “Did you know you have rapists amongst your guardsmen? Do you even care?”

“I swear,” Reaching out, he took hold of both of her hands, holding gently but firmly. “If such things were to occur in my kingdom, I have had no part in them, no knowledge of it.”

“And yet you seem entirely unmoved by the revelation.” She tore herself away from the prince, turning away so he would not see the angry tears that spilled over her long eyelashes, furious betrayal written upon her features at the man she had once called friend.

“Now is not the time for me to submit to my emotions, I will deal with it once I return to Starkhaven, with your assistance if you’ll allow it?” Sebastian’s final inflection was hopeful, though as he reached out once more to place his hand on her shoulder, she pulled roughly away from him.

“Fine. You have the assistance of the Wardens in your current predicament, and my personal assistance in _fixing_ the inhumanities your mages face.” She could practically feel his sigh of relief, wiping the tear tracks from her face, hoping he would not notice. “But do not cross me again, Sebastian. I will not be so merciful a second time around. Your life is safe, that I promise you, but your reputation?” She let the threat hang, turning to shoot him another glare, disarmed somewhat by the endlessly piercing blue eyes and the open and honest look upon his face.

“Thank you, Beth. I appreciate it.”

“Let’s see if you still appreciate it once we’re done.” She sighed, motioning for her fellow Wardens to join them. “Now, start to finish, what happened exactly?” And he told her, about the hunt for Anders and the appearance of the abominations, of the strange, twisted demon that had assaulted him and how the creature had died. She listened intently, lips pursed.

“Any idea what it might have been?” The prince finally asked as his story came to a close, mildly distracted as the dwarf that had accompanied Bethany rummaged noisily through a satchel of scrolls.

“Not a clue, to be honest. Signa here might be of more help though, she’s something of an expert on demons.” Bethany indicated to the dwarven woman to her right, Signa having just pulled half a dozen or more tightly wrapped scrolls from her bag.

“I’ve got a few thoughts.” The dwarf chipped in, pushing one of the six pigtails that adorned her head out of the way as she pulled open the first scroll she had fished from the bag, holding it at and angle so that the tall prince could see. “Something like this? Sloth demon, early stages, before they mature. There’s been some research into their potential transformative abilities, but nothing conclusive.” The creature sketched several times over on the parchment did hold some resemblance to the thing they had killed, but bulged in the wrong places, and did not hold the same twisted limbs.

“No, that’s not quite it. Less human-looking, more...” He paused for a moment, looking for the right word.

“Freaky?” She finished for him with a grin, opening the next scroll. “What about this, then? Desire demon, can take on any form they want whenever they want, would explain them looking like this Anders fellow though I’m not sure why it’d switch to something so ugly looking after.” She held open the scroll, for what little good it did. “Was there any change at all when it died? Anything before the fade took it?”

“No, nothing.” Sebastian shook his head, trying to think of any small thing he might have missed. “It did say something, though. Before it died. ‘I fear this face is at its limits, I’ve enjoyed wearing it these past years’, I think it said.” Signa stared up at him for a moment, eyes wide, before dropping the scrolls back into her bag and reaching in for one hiding at the very bottom.

“This is a bit of a long shot, only a handful of these things have ever been seen, but it wouldn’t look like this, would it?” She unrolled the final scroll, turning it up for Sebastian to see, her expression unreadable.

“Yes, that’s exactly it.” The prince confirmed, gently taking the parchment from between her fingers. “What is it, anyway?”

“Envy demon.” Signa replied, turning to Beth. “This Anders fellow, he was your friend, right?”

“Was, before the whole Chantry thing.” The mage replied, more than a little bitter at how their friendship had ended, still uncertain as to whether her brother’s choice in letting the man go had been the right one.

“Well, this envy demon, it was wearing his face. Meaning, depending on how long it has had him, you may not have ever met the real one.”

“Wait, so the Anders we knew..?”

“May not have been the real Anders.” Signa sighed, scrubbing at her hair. “This is why envy demons are so rare; they manage to get hold of a host, and they ‘wear’ them, take their faces and their lives for _years_ , before eventually killing the host and moving on to the next one that takes their fancy. They’re so good at what they do, it’s rare for anyone to catch on. It’s also believed they’re also the only demons that don’t require _consent_ to do what they do.”

“So, what, that thing was wearing his _skin_?” Bethany asked, horrified, hand flying to her mouth.

“No, it’s actually a bit more disturbing than that. They keep the host alive, somewhere, which means there’s some poor bloke locked up somewhere who’s going to die very soon if we don’t figure out where this thing was keeping him.”

“One question.” Sebastian asked lowly, looking slightly sick. “How many years are we talking, realistically.”

“The demon mentioned multiples, so at least two. How old was Anders?” Signa asked conversationally, though her piercing gaze never moved from the white and gold clad prince.

“I’ve no idea, maybe thirty or so?” He had never asked, never even thought to. He had, in fact, never even bothered to try to find out the mage’s real name. He had cared so little about the apostate in Darktown that he hadn’t noticed that the demon in their midst was, in all actuality, a real demon.

“Then up to maybe thirty or so years.” The prince blanched at that, finally comprehending the magnitude of what he had uncovered, swallowing thickly around the bile rising to his throat.

“We need to find him.”


End file.
